Drabbles
by KissingFire
Summary: Drabbles of Clace, Jaia, Simabelle, and Malec. Fluffy, angsty. All human, canon universe. Short, long. K-T, for now.
1. Jace and Clary

_I'm not abandoning any of my stories. This is just a side project I'll use to vent out any frustration from my other stories. :)_

_Or if you've never read any of my other stuff, then don't worry 'bout it. ;)_

_This is mostly a brainless, totally random collection of short drabbles of Simabelle, Malec, Clace, Jaia...Some are fuffy, some are angsty. Some will be all human, some will be Shadowhunter-based._

_Some will be in character, but probably not. _

_Ratings...Hmm...K-T for now...We'll see how it goes. ;)_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Disclaimer-For the whole story, because I'm not witty enough to think of a disclaimer pun for every feckin' chapter-I don't own Mortal Instruments. Screw you for eating the last pineapple. <em>**

* * *

><p><em>Pairing: ClaryJace_

_Genres: Romance/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort_

_Universe: All Human_

_Rating: T for Language and Child Abuse/Physical, Sexual, Mental..._

_Warnings...Clary goes off the deep end in this chapter, slightly. If you aren't used to vague insanity, you may not understand much of this...:/_

* * *

><p><strong>Imaginary Friends Last Forever<strong>

.

.

.

Jace had been my only friend, for as long as I could remember.

He was my protector, older brother, teacher. He'd been the one to teach me how to read, how to multiply and divide. He was also like a doctor.

I remembered, when I was six, when Daddy got so made he threw one of the chairs from the kitchen table at me, hitting me in the head and knocking me out.

I'd woken up in bed, Jace holding my head in his lap, holding an icepack to my lumpy head and shushing me when I started to cry, because the pain was nearly unbearable.

But Jace always saved me.

He was always there.

.

.

.

He always found me, when we played hide-and-seek with each other. He would come up from behind me, his hands shooting to my sides and tickling me relentlessly, causing me to fall to the floor, giggling hysterically.

"Got you," he'd sing, lifting me up over his shoulder and running around the house, screaming like Tarzan.

I don't know how old Jace was, exactly. He always looked like he was in his late teens, but he acted about as mature as I did.

He held me when I fell asleep, and would braid my hair, careful not to touch any cuts or bumps Daddy had left on my head or face when he did so.

Jace would hide in my closet with me, wrapping me in my heavy winter coats and locking the door, holding me securely on my lap while Daddy banged on the door, crooning in a sweet voice that Daddy wanted to see his little girl. Didn't I love him? Why was I hiding from him? He loved me so much.

I cried in Jace's shoulder, fighting the urge to open the door and surrender to my father. But Jace wouldn't let me. His arms were tight around me, and he whispered softly that if I opened the door, Daddy would only hurt me.

He would pull out a flashlight, and read from Alice in Wonderland, one of my favorite books.

To find a new world like that...I felt envious of her.

Jace would kiss my cheek sweetly, reassuring me that he would find a new world for me to live in, one without my father.

.

.

.

.

I think I was nine, the first time Daddy touched me in one of my "private parts".

Slid his hand down my jeans, when I was vacuuming the living room, seeing as I did all the housework, otherwise I'd be punished. Jace usually entertained me with funny stories, but I hadn't seen him this morning.

I flinched away from his unwanted touch, my eyes wide. "What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to shield myself even though I was already dressed.

Daddy glared at me, and his hand shot out, catching me by the throat. "You're my daughter, young lady," he snapped. "I have every right to do whatever I want with you."

Then Jace was there, and he pulled me away from Daddy's intruding hands.

In a flash, we were out of the house, and on a dock.

"Jace?" I looked at him. "What are we doing here?"

He shook his head. "I don't know." He took my hand, and we began walking down the pier, staring out into the gray sea. The sky was foggy, mist still rising from the water, creating a gloomy mood.

I stood on the edge, Jace's arms wrapped around my waist, holding me against his chest. "I wish we could go somewhere," I told him. "Leave."

He smiled at me, sadly. "We will," he promised. "I'll take you away from here."

I blinked, and I was laying on the floor of the living room, my pants down and blood on my inner thighs.

Jace stood in front of me, his face troubled. "I'll get you out of here, soon." He picked me up, and carried me to my bedroom to put me to bed.

.

.

.

.

.

I was twelve, when Jace disappeared.

For good.

.

.

.

.

.

I stared at my reflection, tears running down my cheeks.

Nobody to take me away, anymore. No one to shield me from my own reality, filling my thoughts with different worlds and loves.

_Why did you leave me?_

My stomach hurt. I'd loved Jace, sure, but it'd been a sisterly love.

Now that he was gone, I realized it was so much more than that.

But he was never real.

.

.

.

.

.

I curled into a protective little ball, kicks raining down on me.

"Worthless little pig," he spat. "You can't even cook my damn eggs without burning them!"

I cried silently as he finally stopped, and walked away.

It'd been three years since I'd had comforting arms wrap around me, protecting me from the hurt.

.

.

.

.

.

I sat in my bed, and closed my eyes.

Picturing the pier I'd walked on with Jace, seven years ago.

He was there, just like I'd thought.

Standing on the edge, hands in his pockets.

I walked up to him, slowly.

"It took you long enough," he said, finally.

I shoved at his shoulder, furious at him. "Me? Where the hell were you?" I demanded, pounding at his chest with my fists. "I was all alone, you selfish bastard! Do you know how that is?"

He looked at me, his golden eyes sad. Always sad.

Arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. "I was lonely, without you here with me," he whispered. "I missed you."

I slumped forward. I'd missed him too much to be mad anymore. My head dropped on his chest. "I missed you, too," I told him.

He hugged me, head resting atop mine.

"Do I have to go back?" I asked, quietly. "I don't want to."

He shook his head. "Never. You can stay with me."

I smiled, and took his hand.

The world around us went dark, and the pier disappeared beneath us, and we both dropped into the open sea.

.

.

.

.

.

Clary was found by her father, sitting on her bed, a serene smile on her face, her eyes lifeless as she stared emptily in front of her, mouthing one name, over and over.

_Jace._

He snapped his fingers in front of her, slapped her.

She didn't respond.

Because she was gone.

Gone, finally, to that place that Jace had promised her, a long time ago.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><em>Review.<em>


	2. Jordan and Maia

_Pairing: Maia/Jordan_

__Universe: All human__

_Genres: Romance/Hurt/Comfort_

_Rated T for: Eating Disorder/Language_

_AN: How many chapters should "Drabbles" have? Because I'm not putting all of my oneshots in here..._

* * *

><p><strong>Beautiful<strong>

...

...

...

She stared at her reflection in her floor-length mirror that was in her bedroom, disgust curling throughout her features.

_Fatty._

That's what her older brother had called her, for as long as she could remember.

Now, at fifteen years, she could finally see how right he was.

Maia's hands dropped, and she squeezed at her gut, which had always hung out, slightly.

_So fat._

Her chin trembled; her face was heart-shaped, but sometimes, when she laid on her bed and held her cell phone up above her to text, she'd see her reflection, and would see her double chin.

Maia swallowed harshly.

She always wore jeans, simply because she hated how her legs looked, compared to the thinner girls at her school.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out after the third movement, relieved for the distraction.

_"Babe, what're you doing?" _

Maia instantly smiled at his voice, and she lowered her head shyly, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Nothin'," she replied, pulling at a loose string in her black sweater. "You?"

He sighed. _"Losing a game of poker...Wayland's totally cheating, the bastard. Did you want to go out to eat later?" _

Maia opened her mouth to say yes, but she paused. She'd only been dating Jordan for two weeks now, knowing him for four months total, but she knew enough to know that all of his previous girlfriends had been the small, petite types. She was short, but...definitely not petite.

"I don't think I can," she lied, though she knew her parents probably wouldn't have minded.

_"Why not?" _He asked. _"It's Friday, May. C'mon...It'll be Chinese, I know that's your favorite."_

Maia smiled. If she could see him right now, she knew he'd probably be pouting, his blonde hair hanging in front of his widened green eyes.

She did love spending time with him...She turned, and saw her reflection, again.

_Did he think she was fat?_

Her throat tightened.

_"May? You still there?"_

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Um, yeah, I'm in. Chinese?"

_"Are you sure? I don't wanna force you into anything you don't want-"_

"It's fine, Jordan." Maia sat on the edge of her bed, wincing as the springs squeaked and groaned under her weight. Dreading that the whole bed might collapse beneath her. "Really. You want me to come over?" He lived with his grandmother, who was usually out at the beauty parlor or at bingo.

_"I always want you over here, gorgeous," _he murmured. _"Be over at eight, and we'll have some time before that stupid show of yours comes on-"_

"Supernatural is not stupid," Maia interrupted him. "You're just jealous because Dean Winchester is sexier than you."

_"So jealous. See you, May."_

"Bye, Jordan."

She dropped her cell onto the bed, beside her, and fell back.

_What was she going to do? She couldn't eat in front of him. He probably thinks she's fat enough, as it is. He __probably thinks she's a pig._

Maia wiped at her eyes, quickly, and rolled over onto her stomach.

_Oh, well. She'd just have to drop a few pounds, then._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

She didn't eat all day, and at seven forty-five, she walked to Jordan's apartment instead of taking her mother's car.

Maia knocked on the door that had **Kyle **printed in the bronze plate in the center, bouncing on the balls of her feet, nervously.

The door swung open, and Jordan stood there, arms crossed.

She smiled at him. It was hard not to: Jordan was just one of those guys that girls smiled at, interested or not.

He was tall, and slender, messy blonde hair falling all over the place. He was smirking at her, and she could see his eyes glow from behind his side-swept fringe.

"C'mere, you," he growled playfully, and his arms shot out, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against him.

Maia giggled, and hugged him back. "Hey."

"Hey, pretty-girl." Jordan kissed her cheek sweetly, and picked her up, bridal style.

She panicked; what if he could feel how much she weighed? Oh, God, she was too heavy for him!

Maia scrambled out of his arms, and fell to her feet.

He stared at her, looking startled and a little bit hurt. "You alright?"

_No, I am not alright. I'm fat._

She nodded. "I'm fine."

He didn't look like he believed her, but he took her by the hand anyway, and drew her through the small hallway and into the kitchen. "Your beef's in here," he said, pointing at the table. "You want anything to drink?"

Maia slid onto the stool. "Some Sprite, please." She tapped her dark blue-painted fingernails on the table, starving but not wanting to eat. She couldn't eat.

Jordan plunked a Sprite and Coca Cola down on the table and sat across from her, pulling out his sesame chicken.

"You gonna eat?" He asked, after five minutes of scarfing down his food, and Maia not even touching hers.

She winced. "I might..." It would be rude _not _to. He had bought this with his own money.

Maia grabbed her chopsticks, and stabbed at the beef and rice in her carton, and began eating.

With every bite, she felt more and more like a failure.

.

.

.

.

.

She excused herself shortly after finishing her dinner, feeling incredibly bloated.

Jordan's concerned eyes followed her.

Maia walked into his small bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her, locking it with a click.

She rubbed at her face, and moved to where his weighing scale was sitting, beside the small tub.

Stepped on it.

146.

For sixteen, it wasn't _that _bad.

However, when you were only 5"1, that _was _bad.

Maia blinked back tears; she truly hated crying. It was messy and hard to quit.

_But she felt so _disgustingly huge.

She glanced at the toilet. Should she...? No. No, she couldn't do that. She wasn't that kind of girl. Not that girl who changed the way she looked for a guy.

Maia looked down.

She could barely see her toes.

Maia took in a shuddering breath, wiping at her mascara-stained wet cheeks, and knelt in front of the toilet, raising the lid.

_Please don't let Jordan hear._

She stuck her finger down her throat, like she'd sometimes seen girls at her school do after lunch, and gagged herself.

Maia gripped the sides of the porcelain bowl, emptying her stomach of the beef she'd had for dinner.

Wiping her mouth with a washcloth, Maia crawled back over to the scale, and stood.

_Not skinny enough._

Maia crawled back to the toilet, her legs feeling a bit shaky.

Sliding her finger back down-

_"What the hell are you doing?"_

Hands grabbed her, and yanked her away from the toilet. A hand gently pulled her hand from her mouth, a contradiction to the angry forceful arms that were pulling her onto a lap.

Green eyes bored into her hazel ones.

"May," Jordan said, his expression pained. "Please explain to me what the _fuck _you're thinking?"

She shifted under his gaze. "I wasn't feeling good-"

"Bullshit." His tone was clipped, angry. "Don't lie to me, Maia."

Maia swallowed. "I-I wanted to look pretty, for you," she whispered, lowering her eyes so that she didn't have to look into his disappointed ones.

"Look at me." Tender fingers lifted her chin up. "Why?" He asked softly, his hair out of his eyes, for once.

She blinked at him, wiping at her eyes and smearing her makeup even more. "Because I'm _fat."_

Jordan stared at her. "If you weren't a girl," he said, slowly. "I swear to God I'd slap you."

Maia looked away.

"Maia, you're beautiful, baby," Jordan sighed, pulling her head so that it was resting on his shoulder. "And you're the perfect size." To enunciate his point, he ran his hands down her sides, over her waist, hips and thighs.

She bit her lip. "You don't mean it." She'd seen her reflection.

"Don't tell me what I mean," he snapped. "You're gorgeous, you're perfect, and if anybody leads you to think any different, I'll beat the shit outta them."

Maia shook her head and smiled in his shoulder.

Jordan relaxed, and pressed his cheek against hers. "Please stop crying?" He asked in a whisper. "I hate it when you cry."

She rubbed her face into his shirt.

He rested his hand on her stomach. "You're perfect, everywhere," he murmured. "I promise."

He stood up, and picked her up bridal style. Again.

"Jordan-" She tried to protest.

He gave her a warning look. "I could carry five of you down the stairs and back, May," he said.

Maia was still tense, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, but he squeezed her reassuringly as he walked down the hallway, towards his bedroom, and she relaxed.

Looking up at him, Maia flushed at the way he was looking at her.

Looking at her like she was perfect.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><em>Review.<em>


	3. Simon and Isabelle

_I never write Simabelle. :(_

_And this probably doesn't count...but hell, I wanna make up for all the angst in the other two chapters. ;)_

_Universe: Shadowhunter/Vampire_

* * *

><p><em>Genres: Humor<em>

* * *

><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments. And, unlike the Mountain Dew that was currently my friend's, I cannot steal it away from Cassandra Clare.<em>

* * *

><p>...<p>

...

...

Simon buried his face into one of Isabelle's black fluffy pillows, exhausted. Which for a vampire, wasn't normal; especially at nighttime.

But, then again, he'd been busy chasing his bloodthirsty, Shadowhunter girlfriend around New YoAbrk City all day, following her in her search for the poor bastard who'd followed her into one of the stalls in the Pandemonium restroom, and had gotten a little...Simon's fingers dug and tore through the lavender sheets just thinking about it.

Isabelle curled in a ball against him, sighing tiredly; it was a wonder she hadn't passed out while they'd taken a cab back to the Institute, having kicked that werewolf-prick's ass black-and-blue.

Simon didn't say a word, just wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes.

And fell asleep for exactly fifteen minutes.

* * *

><p>Simon woke up to the sound of a bear growling.<p>

Or that's what it sounded like, at least. A bear with a dead rabbit stuck in its throat, choking and hacking while at the same time trying to sound intimidating.

"The_ hell_ -?" He sat up, wincing and clapping a hand over his ears, cursing his vampire-enhanced hearing.

Simon tensed, glancing around the bedroom, prepared to rip the throat out of whoever - or, being a Downworlder he'd grown accustomed to _what_ever - the hell might be considered a threat to his sleeping girlfriend.

Until he realized the intruder was asleep right next to him.

Simon was well aware of the fact that Isabelle Lightwood was perfect. Beautiful. Smart. Badass.

It was a wonder she even gave him the time of day.

So imagine his horror, to hear such a hideously contorted noise coming out of the mouth of such a pretty face.

It was so _wrong._

Simon was too scared to shake her awake; if she sounded like _that_ when she was sleeping, who knows what she'd sound like if she was woken up?

Her snores stuttered, and grew unbelievably louder.

Simon cringed; was it even humanly possible for girls to snore? And like _that?_

He would have Magnus check her out tomorrow and see if she was sick.

Isabelle turned on her side, and farted.

Simon choked. _The hell? _Isabelle Lightwood _farted?_

Had he just woken up into some sort of alternate universe, where girls snored and farted, and _oh God, _the _smell!_

He clapped a hand over his nose, holding his breath. _At least vampires didn't need to breathe._

Isabelle yawned and stretched, letting out another - Jesus, why had she insisted on having chili for lunch?

Simon's eyes began to tear, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, desperate to just get away from the smell and wrongness of it all.

He practically ran out of her room.

Jace was sitting on the floor outside, to his surprise. Earphones in his ears, and heavy bags under his eyes.

Simon frowned, and sat down next to him. "Why're you out here? Clary's spending the night." He shuddered, remembering what had occurred just hours ago, once again cursing his enhanced hearing.

Jace pulled an earphone out, yawning. He was wearing his pajamas, and a pillow was on the floor beside of him. Like he was about to sleep on the floor.

"Clary is..." he shook his head. "I dunno, leech-boy. It's like she's a whole different person at night. It's so..._wrong."_

Simon nodded. "It probably isn't considered human, the sounds and smells I've just witnessed."

Jace grimaced. "It's as if she's an animal."

Simon agreed. "A farting, snoring animal."

Both boys shuddered.

"I'm too scared to go back in there," Simon confessed, staring at the closed door he'd just came out of. "I don't know what she'll do next."

Jace shook his head. "I'm not scared," he drawled. "I just love Clary too much to risk being turned off by her inhumane habits."

Simon rolled his eyes.

The two boys fell asleep on the floor of the Institute hallway, the sanctuary silent other than the loud snoring of the two Shadowhunter girls.

* * *

><p><em>My little sister snores. X( And I share a room with her, also.<em>

_Review. :)_


End file.
